


Run Forever

by misaffection



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Extraction is the part he <i>doesn’t </i>choose (post-Continuum)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is entirely Cliff Simon's fault
> 
> Edited November 2012: Aziru is named in Big Finish's "An Eye For An Eye" audio play.

Pain spears his forehead, drives deep, deeper, until he’s screaming inside and out. _They cannot,_ he thinks, but they do and half of himself is torn away. Blackness rolls in.

When he wakes, his mind is flayed and raw. The silence is deafening. A hand curls around his, warm and soft and finally he accepts that he isn’t dying and opens his eyes.

Stormy grey eyes watch him, haunted and grave. Her face is pale, shadowed. Fear battles anger, loses to concern and pain. She heaves in a breath and lets it all go. Her smile is still strained.

“Hey.”

He remembers her, or who she was. Pulling the tatters of his mind together, he says, “Vala,” and her smile brightens, her shoulders loosening. He knows what she was expecting. What he doesn’t know is why she stayed.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s clear she knows that and is just making conversation. Her fingers tremble against his palm. Her eyes met his, then skitter away. Their history both stretches back a millennium and encompasses a few minutes. He isn’t sure what to say to either.

“Not… great,” he murmurs, aware she draws the wrong conclusion to that.

It is how it is for most – the loss of oneself, the inability to control, the agony of witnessing one actions and being able to do nothing to stop it. That is the theory, at least. Practically, he knows nothing about those things, but cannot admit to her that _this_ is the part he doesn’t choose.

“No…” Her voice tails off as her gaze goes distant. Then she shakes herself, gives him a false smile and projects a cheer he knows she doesn’t feel. “So, what’s your name?”

 _Baal_ , he thinks but doesn’t say that. There was another name, a lifetime ago. It takes almost as long to recall it.

“Aziru.”

She tries it out a few times while staring at his face. It will take time. After all, he still thinks of her as Qetesh and probably always will do, to a degree. If she thinks a change of name changes who he is, then she is sorely mistaken, but he doesn’t say that either.

“It must be fairly terrible,” she says.

He blinks. “What must?”

“All those memories of the things _it_ made you do.”

It isn’t, but lying still comes easily. “I’m a clone. I don’t remember anything before my creation.”

He wonders if she’s heard of inherited memory, but her expression brightens further so clearly not.

“Oh! Oh, well that’s better, I suppose.” She pauses and scans his face. “I stayed to help you through it, and it’s not necessary?”

He allows the smile to come. She is attractive and intelligent and has enough curiosity that they could work well together. Reaching out, he brushes her cheek with light fingers. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Unnecessary, perhaps, but that doesn’t mean it’s undesired.”

“Oh,” she mutters and the floor is apparently interesting. She chews at her bottom lip for a moment, then casts him a glance that’s almost shy. “So what _do_ you remember?”

He grins. “I remember something about a mutual… spark.”

Colour rises. “Um, I was trying to ply you for information.”

“Ah. So… it was a lie?”

Her throat bobs. Her eyes skit over his chest and up to his gaze and she bits her lip again. Her eyes drop and her fingers knot on her lap.

“Not… entirely. But I’m kind of with SG1.”

He makes a show of looking around. Other than him and her, the room is empty. He knows that she’s been left to deal with this and, her decision or not, she is on her own. He looks at her and arches an eyebrow.

“That is not immediately apparent,” he notes.

“I wanted to stay.”

Smiling at her again, he says, “Thank you.”

She nods. “What are you going to do now? I don’t imagine you’re gonna want to stay with the Tok’ra and Earth is out.”

“Undoubtedly.” He chuckles at that. “I hadn’t thought. Did you have a suggestion?”

In actuality, he has plenty of ideas, but he likes her well enough that he’d rather she stay with him. He watches her think it over and decides to help her along.

“There _has_ always been something between us.” He leans forward and brushes her hair over one shoulder. Her lips part at his proximity. “It would be a shame to pass up on that, don’t you think?”

She wavers visibly. “Ba- I mean, Elias.”

“I will answer to either,” he laughs. “As long as you agree.”

“But the others-”

“Are not here. The Goa’uld are defeated, the Ori scattered back to wherever it was they came from. How much longer do you think they’ll keep you around now that you’ve nothing to offer?”

Cruel, and she flinches, but it is probably truth. He sees the echo of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Where are you going?”

He shrugs. “No idea, but isn’t that half the fun?”

Her eyes light up, sparkling with a sudden mischief. He chuckles, knowing she is definitely the right choice for companion. In all contexts of the word. She nods, breathless with laughter, and takes his offered hand.

By the time the sirens blare, it’s far too late to stop them running.


End file.
